


Achilles' Heel

by bootlegtruth



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Blood, Crime, Death, M/M, Mafia AU, Smut, Violence, also warning: they switch, do not try at home, hanbin is bobby's weakness, i do not understand how the mafia works, okay it's a try-hard mafia au, you've heard about cigarettes after sex now i present you cigarettes during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootlegtruth/pseuds/bootlegtruth
Summary: In which Bobby had an inevitable fate to be dead as soon as he meets Hanbin, the reason of his downfall. His kisses kept him alive though, and he returns it with a burning passion. To hell with the prophecy.
Relationships: Kim Hanbin | B.I/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	Achilles' Heel

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 10k fic but I ran out of scenarios and I suck so much at narrating.

In a span of three years, Bobby had managed to take down an empire with eons of drug dealing businesses to their name. For good measure, he stoops down and places his hand below the dead man's nose, checking for any signs of possible _revival_. "He's fucking dead." He takes a look at Jinhwan, a baby-faced town boy lackey who was very squeamish, and laughs. 

He keeps on laughing until it was time to call the cops. "God, I need a drink. What do you say, Jinhwan-ah?" 

The older guy scoffs, not even bothering to correct him and tell him he's a _hyung_. Bobby was notably forgetful, but he's got a knack for revenge like his memory's the best. He wasn't very much good in the brain department either, but he does have a great sense of using violence for his own benefit. 

"You got blood on your cheek, Reaper." 

Bobby walks closer to him, pulling his arm and stretching it upwards to level with his face. "Then wipe it." And he does as he's told to avoid trouble. 

Bobby was always the one to start it anyway. He wonders if he ever gets tired. 

  
///////

  
Kim Hyungsik was the best assassin of the 80s. A devout reaper. A storied man with a moral compass off the charts. He speaks with a revolver as his tongue and kisses every brink of death as if they were lovers. He's had two sons in a failed marriage, as what he considers it. In reality, his wife was killed after giving birth. There was no place for a woman inside their mafia, except for sex and bringing an heir. 

He was a noble father who favored his younger son more because he looked nothing like his late wife. After years of remorseless killings, God collected what He is due. Kim Hyungsik went on a murder spree, with his sons as his first victims. Unrepentant till the end with the same firm grip on his gun. His insanity had led to his death, with the head—someone named Mr. Choi—as the assassinator. 

That was the first time Bobby had seen him. A tall figure dressed to the nines, his hands covered with gloves as if he never touched a dirt in his life. He saw him raise his index finger and made a gesture to clean the place—a dreary basement with rats scurrying to hide. He took a few steps and stooped down to level at him. A smile crept on his face before placing his leather-clad hand below his bloodied nose, checking for life. He tried his best to inhale and pretend to be dead. He doesn't want to be killed again.

"I know you're alive, son. Let's go home." 

And he survived. He was alive.

Mr. Choi had signed him up to be one of their reapers. He groomed him to be the best, but he only had one thing in his mind. To be better than his father. 

By 12, he had his first gun and cleaned it himself. By 13, he had his first bird shot. By 14, he had run an errand with death, shooting himself accidentally. By 15, he had his first kill. By 16, a second. By 17, the tenth. Remorse was a word he couldn't utter. But it was a word he couldn't get out of his head either. He made himself useful every now and then. Because when He comes collecting yet again, he knows it'll be the end for him. Just like how Kim Hyungsik died. 

Yet he wonders whose life dear to him would he take? 

The night had a vivid sparkle and the place Mr. Choi decided to celebrate Kang Sunghwan's death had a repulsive smell of victory. An opportunity for the mafia men to show off the woman they've been seeing on the side. 

Bobby was _unfortunately_ with Jinhwan, wines on their hand and a bloody red suit hugging their body, with the mafia rose brooch sitting on their chests. 

Everyone with the rose probably knows why they have gathered. It was because of him, and he plastered a perpetual smirk on his face with his head held up high in pride for it. 

"I'll get you another drink." Jinhwan takes the glass away from his hand and leaves. He stays still from his spot, only roaming his head to observe who attended _his_ party. By the middle of it, he figures out that it wasn't exclusively for him nor the mafia. He noticed a few snipers standing guard by the door, at every corner of the prestigious hall. The newly recruited assassins were scattered with an earpiece hidden behind their masks, disguised as waiters. They didn't have a brooch yet. 

This was an inside job. Someone will be killed. 

"Quit standing there, Reaper." He turns around to face the voice he wasn't familiar with, something scratchy but with a keen assertiveness. Four words. 

He takes a moment to scan him. Lean body type, brown eyes, coiffed hair with full lips. He's wearing a black suit with no brooch. He's not from here. 

"Who are you?" He asks, tilting his head in pure curiosity. There's no way he's a date. He looks smarter than that. He doesn't question why he was _certain_ he's a reaper by calling him as such, though. Someone does their research and he was flattered. 

The man stretches out his hand. He stares at it with bland eyes and raises an eyebrow. He's wearing a thumb-free gloves. He receives it hesistantly, shaking twice. "Kim Hanbin. I came with Koo Junhoe but he left after a call." He shrugs, staring directly at his eyes. 

Bobby doesn't let his gaze falter. He looks at him with equal intensity, wanting him to be intimidated and lost. What was taking Jinhwan so long anyway? 

"Drink with me, Reaper." Hanbin nods to the counter. He starts to walk ahead, expecting him to follow closely behind. Surprisingly, Bobby finds himself on his tail. They sit beside each other. Hanbin orders a drink. 

The atmosphere inside the hall comes to a calm after midnight. The snipers were out of their usual phases and when the music becomes inexplicably loud, Bobby knows it was done. The lack of Jinhwan and his cocktail were proof that he's been sent for the clean-up. The mafia worked smoothly and the party continued. Relieved, he finally checks out the man beside him _properly_.

"You say you were here with Koo Junhoe, a lover?" He puts his fingers below his chin in faux pensiveness, Hanbin shakes his head. 

"Truth is, I was sent to distract you." He checks the Cartier watch on his wrist. "The assassination happened at exactly 12:07. A body bag was sent to be thrown in the lake. I've been told about a particular reaper in need of company. My mission here is done." He gives him a timid smile before strutting away. Bobby was fast to catch his arm, clicking his tongue twice. 

"Nobody gets to walk out from me, boy. Finish your drink." He pitches his head sideways on the direction of their untouched drinks still on the counter. Hanbin scoffs, carefully removing his grip on him. 

Bobby was good at reading people. He's observant and with his all-knowing eyes, one squint was enough. Hanbin was calm and collected, someone who doesn't just break for anyone. He keeps a facade so thick that nobody gets through it. Bobby doesn't dare knock it down though. 

Sometimes, it's better to just swim around the surface. 

But since he has already mastered the art of deceit, he finds it permitting enough to be on a bed underneath him, with tongue and teeths in between them and a palm planted on the planes of his chest. 

"Should I be the only one without clothes? Take yours off." Hanbin obeys, removing every piece of fabric that covers his fairly tanned skin. "Sick tattoo." He comments, eyeing the letters imprinted on his skin. He traces it with his fingers and watches the man above him quirk up the side of his lips. 

"Yours too." He catches him staring at the crown of thorns covering his clavicle. He lifts an eyebrow and laughs.

Bobby pulls him and Hanbin surges forward, they move in sync as their hips grind against each other. Hanbin kisses the side of his lips, going down to whisper, "Have you ever done this before?" 

"Once or twice, yeah." He answers, thoughts getting lost and mind hazy. There was something about the way Hanbin cants above him, skilled and with ease. Like he was made to do this. 

"Let me loosen you up." Hanbin licks the spot below his ears and he pushes him slightly, brows meeting in confusion. 

"W-wait, what?" 

"Since you've done this before, I want something new to take." He says, literring marks on his chest. "I go on top." 

Bobby never thought he'd ever be in a position like this, losing his stance and falling. Hanbin pins his wrists above his head and he lets him, still thinking if he could get away with killing some insignificant lackey without his boss knowing. 

"Do you want me to fuck you? Or are you too scared it'll hurt?" He mocks him by laughing, the word Reaper rolling off of his tongue like a jibe and it punches through his throat and knock the breath out of his lungs. It rings in his ears like a chant.

"Yeah, fuck me." He'll forget it first thing in the morning, for sure. 

Hanbin pulls his pants down slowly and in a matter of seconds, he was unarmed. He retrieves the gun holstered around his thigh and carefully places it aside. "Got anymore weapons?" 

"I got a knife up my ass and I can carve you right." He spits, gritting his teeth and Hanbin laughs endearingly, this time, mouth lax on his stomach and dangerously close to his cock. 

"You'd love to be filled by me. Look at you getting hard by just me breathing on your cock." He stares at him through his fringe. "What more if I put it in my mouth?" He licks a stripe from base to tip and was pleased to see Bobby shudder. 

That night, he lets him take over. Too pliant to keep his pride when Hanbin pushes inside him with the virtue of breaking him down to pieces. Bobby's never felt this powerless before. He could easily change their positions and have his way but he doesn't, instead he does what he's best at besides taking lives. He observes Hanbin move on top of him, inside him, with unbridled arousal filling their bodies and just pure, unadulterated bliss coursing through their veins. 

"God." He mutters under his labored breathing, clenching his fists so tight he actually feels his nails piercing through the skin of his palm. He wills himself not to say a word anymore, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and successfully doing so. 

Hanbin lets go of his hold on his wrists and licks his way up from his chin to his cheek. "Look at me, Reaper." 

Bobby never strayed away from his sight, though.

"I fuck you." 

He does. 

  
///////

  
He doesn't forget about him _at all_.

Jinhwan eyes him through the wine glass he was drinking from early in the morning. He's getting ready for assembly, playing with the shiny brooch pinned on the navy blue fabric of his coat. 

"What happened last night?" The lackey asks, putting down his nearly empty glass on the wooden table. 

"You wouldn't believe it but I got fucked." He says casually and fixes his raven hair with last season's pomade. Jinhwan's eyes crinkle with excitement at his answer, coming up near him to ask for more details.

He tells him about some unknown non-assassin brought by Koo Junhoe to the mafia's party. He doesn't say his name and decides to hide the fact that it wasn't one of his usual pick-ups since he was the one who received. 

When he wakes up from the light coming to the drawn curtains of the hotel, Kim Hanbin was nowhere to be found. Not a single trace of his existence was seen that morning, except for the bruising marks on his chests. He went on to search for where he settled his gun but it was taken too. He cursed himself for being tactless. 

"If Koo Junhoe was the one to bring him, you'll probably see him again." Jinhwan purses his lips, pouring himself another glass. "He never shows up with another person without being seen back alone with a corpse." 

Bobby never wanted to see him again. 

Yet there he was, at the assembly in a formal attire with his hair down and a serious look on his face. What was unexpected was that he was beside Mr. Choi, like some low-level assistant with an impeccable posture. His hands were hidden inside his pockets and he was smiling at every assassin he comes across with. 

It wasn't until Mr. Choi calls for him that they were face to face. Hanbin was good at acting civil, his expression didn't change when he sees him. Bobby wants to scoff at that. 

Hanbin was introduced as the mafia's son from a woman in Chicago who was just as dead as every woman coming in contact with the head or any other members of the mafia at that matter. Raised in the headquarters in Italy specializing with bombs and internal work. "He's the one responsible for the Ming Plaza bombing back in '08. He was 12 years old." Jinhwan tells him as he reads the information he gathered from the database they were given. 

"A genius, then?" 

"Yup. Brains and dicks, Reaper." The lackey chuckles, shaking his head and disposing the documents on his table from their previous escapades. 

"What is he doing with Koo Junhoe, I wonder." He says it to himself but Jinhwan hears it, answering him with, "I bet he was tasked to take care of him. Or he's just ass-kissing." 

And Bobby thinks, _why not him?_

He's the best mafia reaper after all.

  
///////

  
The headquarters in Seoul is no different from the newly established ones in the other countries. With maximum security and an isolated training ground for the recently recruited assassins, it was maybe even better.

Bobby, however, preferred to stay at home and plan with Jinhwan. They got a gym to themselves and a shooting range but of course, it's nostalgic to go back and train accordingly every now and then. 

He sees the mafia's son on the range with a lousy grip on the gun on his left hand. He's closed the wrong eye too, and misses the target at an impossibly high amount. 

"Good morning, Reaper." He greets him without turning his head, focused on the target he keeps on missing. Bobby grins at him, leaning on the rails and watching him closely. 

"Use your dominant hand and close the other eye." He reaches for the .44 Magnum on his waistband—another one of his collections because the weapon he wore last night was stolen by the man in front of him, who was trying his best to hit the target. The silver frame reflects that of his ring and glistens when the sun touches it. 

The first time he ever set foot in the range, he was holding onto Mr. Choi's hand like a lifeline, an orphan boy with a death wish and a gun all for himself. When he got the hang of it, not once did he miss. 

He takes Hanbin's right hand and places his gun on it, urging him to grip firmly with a finger nearing the trigger. "Take mine." He whispers in his ear, observing that he doesn't budge but there's a slightest tint of pink dusting his cheeks. 

"It appears you've mistaken my intention, Reaper. I'm not shooting for the target." He pushes the gun on his chest and Bobby can feel the coldness of the barrel piercing through his heart as though a bullet was let out. "I could kill you." 

He had good laugh at that, his fingers joining Hanbin's hold on the gun, moving it upwards until it reaches his temple. And like a madman, he threatens to pull the trigger, fingers on the guard. "Mr. Choi would be upset if you kill his favorite reaper." 

"You should stop caring about Mr. Choi, rather find out which reaper is _my_ favorite." 

His confidence is getting on his nerves.

"Man, I hate Mr. Choi's son." He blurts out to Jinhwan, hanging upside down on the lackey's living room couch tinkering with the silver chain bracelet on his wrist. 

"I get it, he's smarter than you." Jinhwan laughs and he sends him a glare. 

"He's a fucking loser, that's why." 

"Yeah, your fly is open." Bobby immediately zips up his fly and rolls his eyes. 

Every once in awhile, when they're not manning the inside businesses of the hotel casino nor the rigged championships, Bobby likes to hang out and pester Jinhwan with whatever lackey work he was getting on. 

The older was introduced to him after a buy-bust operation under the mafia's radar in New Orleans, a lanky 20-year old with blood running down his cheeks. Bobby decided it would be fun to torment him instead of following the protocol that nobody gets out alive. Jinhwan was lucky and thankful that he was saved. He lived.

Since then, he's been loyal. Bobby never thinks about Jinhwan that much. He knows he's there whenever he's needed and that's his only purpose. When push comes to shove, he'll be dead in a ditch without a single blink. That's how it is. 

The main purpose of the mafia was to take over the whole of the Seoul underground. With regards to the years his father have offered, Bobby was half done. He's on his way to seize not only the cheese in the trap but the rat itself. 

  
///////

  
"How long have you been staying in Korea, Mr. Kim?" Jinhwan asks. Once again, they were in the headquarters watching Koo Junhoe train the snipers. Bobby was sitting on the lounge, flipping the magazine on his lap and a mimosa on his hand. He's silently listening to the conversation of the two men near him. 

"It's Hanbin." The mafia's son corrects, eyes on the range. Bobby thinks the earmuffs look ridiculous on him, he snorts. "And I've been here for three years." 

Hanbin eyes him with a stare asking what was funny but he just shakes his head as the answer, feeling childish at the reason. Jinhwan tells him to ignore the reaper and continues to talk without letting him on the conversation.

"Really? Where did you stay then? And how come you're only introduced to us now?" Hanbin doesn't answer, he just shrugs. But he did say something that made Bobby spit out his drink, the orange mimosa dirtying his coat as Jinhwan hands him a napkin to wipe it off. 

"I asked Mr. Choi for his best reaper and he was handed to me at night on a silver platter." Jinhwan has no idea what it means. Bobby, on the other hand, does. 

Essentially, Bobby would rather take a swim in Jinhwan's 4 feet deep indoor pool, enough for the lackey to reach the tiles down below and enough for him to catch a cold from his chest being exposed when he emerges out of water. 

The olympic-sized pool on the headquarters was set to be warm though, soothing after a good amount of training. Except tonight, he was a watcher and he was free. No lackey in sight, no snipers. Only hundreds of security cameras watching their every move. 

Hanbin pushes his wet hair out of his face, water dripping from it down to his shoulders. He pulls half of his body and rests his arms on the cold tiles, tilting his head and smiling at him. "Why don't you join me, Reaper?" 

Bobby was a little wary of him. A mafia's son with the world in his hands, getting what he wants with just one flick of his fingers. He was binded at the end of the rope, and Hanbin was pulling him close. 

Koo Junhoe was sent to Las Vegas. He was left to watch over. And while he did _wish_ for it to happen before, he wants out if it means Hanbin gets to have his way with him however he wants. Bobby wasn't fully accustomed with being someone's dog. Aside from Mr. Choi, everybody else was inferior. 

And yet Hanbin had made his way through him. Like thunder in a dessert or being hit by a lightning twice. It doesn't make sense. 

"How many weapons do you have on your body right now?" Hanbin asks, staring at him through his lashes, face beaded with sweat after a few laps. 

"Just three." He answers, counting down the jewels on his face and watching it fall back down on the water where it belongs. 

"Strip for me." The mafia's son pulls himself up completely, revealing his toned and soaked naked body. The crystal-colored water cascading down his reddened chest, his long legs taking a few strides towards him until his leather shoes was drenched. 

"I think I've done enough for you." The words come out of his mouth like a secret, something to be kept between the two of them. Only Hanbin has the right to know. 

Slender fingertips caress his cheek, a wildfire spreading in his chest when he speaks in a low voice. "Swim with me and kiss me underwater." Their eyes meet in the midst of the noise from the courses of the man-made river. "I'll never ask for more." 

If it was luck or just a mere proposition, Bobby thinks he wants to answer every question he asks, or those of which he doesn't. Just hear how fast his heart runs in time with the ticking of the clock and he'll know. A damned reaper who sows. 

He kissed him until the sun rises and they were forced to part like it burned them.

  
///////

  
Once a month, he gets an update about the different operations he handle. Although barren for weeks, he still gets to harvest the fruits of his hardworks when the time comes for him to revolt.

"Yoon Jaeha, I have been looking for you." He places the heel of his shoes on his lap, grip on his jaw tight as he removes the tape covering his mouth. "Tell me about the drug cartel in Spain. That's what I'd like to hear most." 

When a man is told to speak up, he does exactly the opposite. So, initially and until now, Bobby had no intention to keep him alive. In all honesty, even before Yoon Jaeha was captured, Jinhwan had run him down all he needed to know about the cartel. He was only giving him a chance to say his final words. 

"I don't like talking to the mafia." He spits and Bobby's roar of laughter follows, filled with spite he didn't know he had. 

Yoon Jaeha wasn't permitted to change his last words, lying face down on the ground with blood flowing from his mouth. Bobby waits for Jinhwan to come as he carves the mafia rose insignia on his temple with a scalpel. He's accustomed to doing this that he knows just how much to engrave, how deep, and his line of vision follows the red fluid oozing out of his skin as it paints the rose perfectly. 

Instead of his usual lackey, he was met with Hanbin leaning by the doorway. He narrows his eyes, frustration looming in when he realized Jinhwan wasn't coming. 

"I don't need you here." He tells him, disposing the scalpel and wiping his hand on Yoon Jaeha's clothing. 

"Jinhwan has other errands." The mafia's son struts closer to the corpse, inspecting his artwork with a quick appraisal on the neat carving Bobby had made. 

"Where's Jinhwan? It's not safe for you to come barging in."

Hanbin doesn't pay attention to him, he just wipes the blood on his eyebrow and mutters, "But you're my Reaper, right?" 

Before he could answer, he hears a few gunshots nearby. The way he pulls Hanbin to duck and run away instead of shooting back was a testament to how fast his adrenaline works. In his usual battle of fight or flight, he never thought he'd eventually choose to flee. There was something about Hanbin's safety that's more important than his pride to win. 

"Bloody hell."

He presses a button bellow the collar of his coat to send troops on their way, already on the bulletproof getaway car with Hanbin on his side. The rush made him reach his house immediately, a modern bungalow on the quiet part of town. A place where nobody knows about the mafia, or a Bobby. No one knows—not even Jinhwan—that he lives in this kind of neighborhood. It was very out of character, and for God's sake, they even call him Jiwon. He doesn't even go home frequently but the people who live there was nice. 

It was actually his father's house. And they know of him, minus the whole mafia killings part. He catches Hanbin roaming his eyes on the interior of his house. There was a sigh that follows and only then did he remember how mad he was. 

Jinhwan never did try to pull this kind of shit. He was a really good lackey and he never had him press the emergency button in their five years of working together. That man was quick in his senses and he was particularly skillfull with guns too. He never once worried about his safety because he wasn't meant to protect him. But this time, holy shit, he was dead scared he decided to run. 

What if a stray bullet had killed him? What if he wasn't fast enough to secure him? He'd kill himself if he misses. 

"Reaper—" He doesn't let him finish and just straight up avoided him, heading upstairs to take a cold shower and clear his mind. 

He closes the door and removes his clothes, disarming himself with the weapons he didn't even had the chance of utilizing. _Because he ran_. Remembering it again, he lets himself succumb to the freezing water, leaning his forehead on the wet tiles and stressing out over something that could've been inevitable. He stays in the cold for hours before wrapping his waist with a towel and flopping on the bed. 

He reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his drawers, taking to light up one with his trembling hands. He doesn't spare a glance on the person who opened and closed the door, just fixed on chasing the droplets of rain on the window with his eyes. 

"You're mad at me." Hanbin implies, the space beside him dipping as the younger sits, hand on his towel-covered thigh. 

Bobby doesn't answer. He huffs on the stick in his mouth like his life depends on it, bottom lip quivering with every smoke he releases. "Reaper..." He shivers when Hanbin traces the bullet scar below his ribs, from when he accidentally shot himself when he was young. Miraculously surviving with only a scar to remember by. 

"You could've been killed." Was his first sentence to him, fingers tightening on the cigarette between them when Hanbin courageously straddles him, knees pressing beside his hips. 

"But I didn't." He whispers. 

"This wouldn't have happened if Jinhwan was there instead of you. He knows what to do and you're just fucking..." He stops when he meets his eyes, telling him to forget about it. That he was safe and with him and it's all that matters. 

"God, you're going to pay for this." He yanks his hair and pulls him closer until he was spearing his lips with his tongue, and he doesn't hold back when he tastes the sweetness of temptation inside his mouth. His hand slipping down and into the depths of his shirt, catching a nipple between fingers and licking Hanbin's parted lips when he pulls away to moan. 

He takes a drag on his stick and blows off smoke into Hanbin's mouth, he tells him, "Fuck yourself on my cock." 

And the mafia's son doesn't hesitate when he strips, teasing him with every clothing he discards, every part of his body he shows. He takes the towel covering his lower body off of him and strokes him with shaking fingers until he was hard and heavy on his palm. 

Bobby tucks his hand on the back of his head and watches Hanbin sink into him, his cock disappearing into the tight flesh he never got to devour last time. Once he was fully sheathed in him, he doesn't give a warning when he thrusts upwards, startling Hanbin as his throat produces a choked-off whimper. 

Bobby stares at him, the cigarette in his fingers barely forgotten, he tells him to move and Hanbin does exactly that, his cock slapping his stomach as he fucks himself on him, hard and unbelievably wet. 

The noises Hanbin makes above him was sending him over the edge and he sits up after taking a huff, puffing on his hardened, pebbled nipple and circling his tongue. "You top me one night but you act like a bitch in heat when you're filled with my cock." He grits, sucking on his pulsing neck, meeting Hanbin everytime he retreats. He thumbs the slit of his cock briefly, mocking him with a laugh when Hanbin keens and he takes his finger back, moving upwards to press on his sides. "You're just made to be fucked." 

Hanbin had his eyes closed, lips in a smirk when he says, "I happen to like the way your face looked when I was balls-deep inside you." 

As if he was overflowed with rage, he fucks him in a single breath, pressing on the sweet spot in him rigorously. 

"Ah." Hanbin screams, heavy-lidded eyes in slits as he makes a mess of himself, his come reaching that of Bobby's chin and the reaper disposes the shortened cigarette on the tray, thumb reaching for the spot he dirtied and pushing it into his mouth. 

"And yet you come without my touch, fucking whore." He removes himself inside him and Hanbin protests, clinging onto him until Bobby whispers more expletives in his ears followed with a, "We're not done yet though. Lift your ass up on the bed and let me fuck you properly."

If the pleading in Hanbin's eyes and the way he sinks his teeth on his lower lip as he takes him weren't enough to keep him sate, he doesn't know what else will be. 

Tongue-tied and hooked. 

Hanbin had a pretty mouth and he uses it to his advantage. Kiss-swollen and reeking with lust, moaning the word _reaper_ longingly, like it was his salvation. 

"Now, I fuck you." 

He doesn't stop. 

  
///////

  
There was only a few instances when he was called to the main residence, to an office hidden in a specific trapdoor upstairs, Mr. Choi was sitting down on a black Chesterfield couch. In front of him was a variety of pistols and an open briefcase containing thousands of dollars, he assumes. 

Today was a special day. October 21, the day Kim Hyungsik died at the hands of the man he was staring at. 15 years have passed and he already made a name for himself as the most renowned reaper in town, even better than his father with more body count. How much lives you've taken was the basis of greatness and he never once doubted it. 

Until now. 

"Come closer, son." Mr. Choi's voice was nothing short of murmur, a plausible command yet due to his old age, he confuses a lot of people. 

"You know why you're here, don't you." He takes a Webley .455 service revolver and points it straight at his head without blinking.

He tells him he does, wondering if he gets to die in the four corners of his office and not the usual basement where the disposing process would be easy for any lackey in witness, for Jinhwan maybe. 

Bobby's aware that not even his skills could save him, not even his contribution to the mafia, not even his existence alone. Because the minute he involved himself with the mafia's son—the sole essence of the rose insignia—he was doomed. 

It didn't even start with his father's insanity. It wasn't hereditary but he was sure to meet the same fate as him.

It occured when he lets himself be lost in his kisses. Hanbin was the foretold reason of his downfall. 

"You've managed to endanger the life of an heir, brought him somewhere the mafia couldn't track instead of directly to the headquarters where we can secure him." Mr. Choi, like his son, had a lousy grip. And yet like him, he never misses. He was surprised when he puts the gun down, cautiously placing it back on the marble table. "But since he begged for your pardon, I called your name for a different reason." When he smiles, it shows a glint of the golden tooth he's been sporting since the early 2000s. 

He didn't die that night. He was spared upon the mafia's son's request and so he gets to visit the columbarium where his father lies. Once a year, sometimes once every three years, sometimes he doesn't remember him at all. 

What was he like as a father? Did he treat him well? What was in his mind when he went on a murder spree? Why should it be them and not everyone else?

Bobby doesn't hate him. He's bound to take on the route as him anyway. And although, he never had to worry about who he gets to kill before—no wife, no son, no daughter, now he has someone dear to him, someone he wants to hold closely. If he ever managed to hurt him, sane or not, he'd haunt himself for it. 

No amount of scars would kill him until it was Hanbin inflicting the pain. He could shove a knife far in his guts, or let a bullet graze his temple, but he'd still come reeling over him, yearning for his touch. Yet if he denies him just one kiss, he'll turn into ashes, blown away by the wind as if death was only waiting for his embrace. 

Bobby feels a set of arms wrapping around his waist and he knows exactly whose warmth it belongs to. In the middle of the night, in front of his father, Hanbin presses his lips on the back of his neck. "You're alive." 

"I am." He croaks, busted lip and all. His body was aching all over but he still managed to put on a decent suit to look presentable, walking with a limp with Jinhwan driving him to this place. He haven't bothered to clean his wounds yet. 

"I told him not to kill you. He keeps his word." Bobby only nods at that, wanting to push him away but he doesn't move, he lets him cover his body, soothing him with kisses he never knew he needed. 

"I am under the protection of the mafia, and no reaper—not even you—could keep me safe." Hanbin utters, just below his ears so he listens. "But I told him if he takes you away from me, I'll ruin him. And unlike you, I never forget." The fingers holding him loosen up and Hanbin pulls at him so he could turn around, standing in front of each other with the moon as their light. 

Unspoken words at the tip of their tongues, uncertain feelings at the tip of their fingers. The mafia rose on the reaper's chest glistening when a teardrop was bestowed upon it. 

"What do you want me to do?" He asks. 

"Just stay by my side." Was the answer. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bobby was meant to die at the end but I saw a video edit on Twitter and I was like, "Omg don't die, you're too sexy." So, yup.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm here sometimes: [@bootleglies](https://mobile.twitter.com/bootleglies)


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